by JR Roberts
“It ain’t only that,” she said, giving him a look.
“Oh, that,” he said. “Yeah, I’m feeling a little sore, too.”
“We need a bath.”
“Together?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “I’ll take one and then you can take one.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “you go ahead, and I’ll finish up here.”
“Good,” she said, slapping her hands together to get some dirt off of them. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Okay.”
They had fixed a back wall of the barn, and all Clint had left to do was bang in a few more nails. He did that, then sat on the corral fence with his shirt off while his stomach gnawed at him.
He looked at the horse trough longingly, but the water had scum floating on the top of it. Not only wouldn’t he take a bath in it, but he wanted to refresh it for the few horses that were in the barn.
He had just finished replacing the water with buckets from the well when Teresa came back, looking clean from her bath, her hair wet, and her clothing changed.
“Your turn,” she said. “I’ll go inside and help the girls finish supper.”
“I’ll be there,” he said. “Where’s the tub?”
“Out back of the house,” she said.
“Thanks.”
He walked with her, and while she went in the front, he walked around to the back, where he found a round wooden bathtub filled with warm water. It might have been hot when Teresa used it, but now it was tepid. But it was good enough, even though some of her dirt was floating on top.
He stripped down, left the gunbelt within easy reach, and got into the tub. Belinda appeared as he started to soap himself.
“Want me to wash your back?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” She pouted.
“Because we know where that would lead,” he told her. “And your sisters would watch us from the window.”
“Well,” she said, “I came out to tell you that supper’s ready.”
“I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” he said.
She reached down to run her fingers over his back.
“You sure I can’t wash your back?”
“No!”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Chicken!”
~*~
When he entered, they had the dining room table covered with food.
“You girls always cook this much?” he asked. “No wonder you keep needing supplies.”
“This is because we have a guest,” Teresa told him.
“Well, after this I think maybe you should just cook what you usually do,” he said. “Let’s see if we can make these supplies last.”
“I’ll tell Loretta,” Teresa said, “she plans all the meals.”
Teresa went back to the kitchen, and then the three sisters reappeared, all carrying plates that they set down on the table.
“Let’s eat!” Loretta said.
Clint didn’t have to be told twice.
~*~
Over the meal he tried to find out a little more about the three of them and their lives, but they seemed very careful not to give too much away.
On the other hand, they asked him about his life, and since he hadn’t yet told them his last name, or who he really was, he did the same. So they talked while they ate, and no one really learned much of anything.
“Did you girls know a lot of the people from town?” he asked, deciding to change the subject.
“Some of ’em,” Loretta said. “Storekeepers, mostly. We weren’t real friendly with the townspeople.
“Why’s that?”
“They sort of treat us like outsiders,” Loretta said.
“They were mean!” Belinda said.
“Why?”
“Probably because we didn’t live in town,” Teresa said.
“They were a real ... close knit bunch,” Loretta said. “We tried to fit in, but it just didn’t work, so we stopped tryin’.”
“Didn’t you meet your husbands in town?”
Loretta made a face.
“We really don’t like to talk about them, much.”
Clint got the message loud and clear, and went back to eating and just making small talk about what else needed fixing.
Seventeen
After supper Clint made some easier fixes around the house, sometimes with Loretta’s help, and sometimes with Belinda’s. At one point the younger sister was helping him repair a door, while Loretta and Teresa talked in the living room.
“Did he say anythin’ about when he wants to leave?” Loretta asked.
“He said he thought he could give us a few more day so he could do more work.”
“Good,” Loretta said, “that gives me time to think.”
“About what?’
“About how to keep him here.”
“You think he’s gonna wanna stay?” Teresa asked.
“He’s got three women who’re sleepin’ with him whenever they get a chance,” Loretta said, “What man wouldn’t be happy with that?”
“I don’t think he’s the settlin’ down type.”
“Then maybe we can just keep him here long enough.”
“Long enough for what?” Teresa asked.
Loretta lowered her voice and hissed, “To get Belinda pregnant!”
~*~
“There, that should do it,” Clint said, backing away from the door.
“How do you know how to fix so many things?” Belinda asked.
“I’m old,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of fixing in my day.”
“Aw, you ain’t so old.”
“Sometimes I just feel real old,” he said.
“That’s just ’cause you do so much travelin’ around,” she said. “You spend too much time in the saddle. You oughtta settle down somewhere, at least for a while, and get some rest.”
Clint knew she was talking about him staying there, but he wasn’t getting all that much rest there, either. Not with three hungry women in the house.
“We’ll have to see about that,” Clint said.
They went back downstairs and ran into Loretta at the base of the stairs.
“How about some coffee and pie?” she asked.
“Sounds good,” Clint said.
“On the porch?” she asked.
“Let’s just do it in here,” Clint said. Sitting out in the open on the porch wasn’t very comfortable for him. He had the feeling during the course of the day that they were being watched. It wasn’t that he’d spotted anyone, but he was in the habit of letting his instincts guide him.
“Okay,” Loretta said. “Have a seat in the dining room.”
Clint sat, thinking that these women were either feeding him, giving him work, or crawling into bed with him. Actually, to be fair, working was his idea. Apparently, they would have been happy to feed him and fuck him. And what man would ever question that?
Except that he was. He was starting to think that maybe they had something else they wanted to ask him to do. If they knew he was the Gunsmith he’d think they were aiming to hire his gun. But he had not revealed his true identity to them. He was still just a man named Clint.
They came out of the kitchen with coffee and pie and sat to eat it with him.
“Peach pie?” he asked.
“Teresa said you told her it was your favorite,” Loretta said, “so I made it.”
“That was so nice of you, Loretta. Thank you.”
She cut a fat chunk and passed it to him while Belinda poured his coffee.
“You girls are being too good to me,” he said. “If you’re not careful I may never want to leave.”
The girls all exchanged a glance, but none of them commented.
“Clint, tell us,” Loretta asked, “why do you always keep your gun so close?”
“Just to be on the safe side.”
“But here, in the house?” Loretta said. “Why do you wear it?”
“Beli
eve me,” he said, “I never know when I’m going to need it.”
Belinda giggled. “You sound like you’re some kind of gunfighter, or somethin’.”
Clint put his fork down and sat back in his chair. All three women were watching him, and the smile on Belinda’s face suddenly faded.
“Wait—” Teresa said.
Clint held his hand out to stop her. “Maybe it’s time I told you my last name. It’s Adams.”
“Your name is Clint Adams?” Loretta asked, after a moment’s hesitation.
“That’s right.”
Loretta and Teresa looked at each other. Belinda looked at both of them.
“I don’t understand,” Belinda said.
“He’s the Gunsmith, Belinda,” Loretta said. “We have the Gunsmith as a guest in our house.”
Eighteen
They were all silent for a while, and then Clint said, “Does this make a difference? Can I finish my pie?”
“Of course you can finish your pie,” Loretta said. “It’s just ... interestin’. Why didn’t you tell us who you were before?”
“I usually don’t mention it if there’s no reason to,” he said. “What difference would it have made?”
“Well ... none, I suppose.”
“Except,” Belinda said, “that we have a famous man in our house. That’s ... exciting.”
“Not so exciting,” Clint said. “I’m still just a man.”
“Well,” Teresa said, “I think we all agree that you’re more than just a man. But at least now we know why that gun is always close by.”
“It’s the way I have to live,” Clint said. “There are men—boys, even—out there who are just waiting for me to be without my gun.”
“What a terrible way to have to live,” Teresa said.
Clint shrugged as he finished his pie. “You get used to it, after a while.”
“I don’t see how,” Teresa said. “I mean, always havin’ to worry that somebody wants to kill you.”
“Can’t you just ... put your gun down?” Belinda asked. “Tell people you’re not the Gunsmith, anymore?”
He sat back in his chair again. “It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. Once you have a reputation, you always have it.”
“What if you stopped traveling? Teresa said. “Just ... took off your gun and stayed put?”
“Somebody would find me, one day,” Clint said. “It’s happened to many others I’ve known who tried to put their guns down. Some of them got killed, some of them just had to go back to living that life.”
“So you’re stuck,” Loretta said.
“Pretty much,” Clint said. “But traveling around I get to meet people like you, so it’s not all bad.”
“Well,” Loretta said, “people like us have to clean the table, and the kitchen. Why don’t you go and relax? No more work, today.”
“Suits me,” Clint said.
He stood up and left the dining room, while the girls went into the kitchen.
~*~
In the kitchen Loretta turned to face her sisters.
“Omigod, do you know what this means?” she asked.
“Yes,” Teresa said, “we have a gunfighter in the house.”
“We’ve all been to bed with a gunfighter!” Belinda said, excitedly.
“Don’t be such a silly little girl, Belinda,” Loretta said.
“But ... this is the most excitin’ thing that’s ever happened to me,” Belinda complained.
“Well,” Loretta said, “we can have somethin’ more excitin’ happen.”
“Like what?” Belinda asked.
“Loretta means we can use him for more than what we’ve been usin’ him for.”
“Like what?”
“Belinda,” Loretta said, “just keep quiet and listen.”
The younger sister fell silent with a hurt look on her face.
“Loretta,” Teresa said, “we really don’t know that Lomax is comin’ back.”
“But if he does,” Loretta said, “havin’ the Gunsmith here would make a big difference.”
“Lomax has a lot of men,” Teresa reminded her. “That’s how he made Corazon into a ghost town.”
“Look,” Loretta sad, “we wanna keep him here, right?”
“Right, but ... not for his gun.”
“His gun just gives us one more reason,” Loretta said.
“Have you thought of a way to do it, though?” Teresa asked.
“I have some ideas,” Loretta said.
“Well then, you better figure it out,” Teresa said.
“Wait!” Belinda said.
Her sisters looked at her.
“Are you talkin’ about keepin’ Clint here against his will?” she asked.
“Do you know another way?” Loretta asked.
“Why don’t we just make him wanna stay?”
“I think we’ve done enough already to make any man want to stay,” Loretta said.
“And he’s still talkin’ about leavin’, eventually,” Teresa said.
“So keepin’ him here by force is the only way,” Loretta said.
“But if he is the Gunsmith,” Belinda asked, “how are the three of us gonna force him to do anythin’? I mean, what makes you think he’ll even wanna help us if we make him stay?”
“I don’t know,” Loretta said. “I don’t have it all figured out, yet.”
“But—”
“Belinda,” Loretta said, cutting her off, “let’s get this kitchen clean and decide who’s gonna make Clint a happy man tonight.”
Nineteen
Clint sat in the living room, waiting for the girls to finish cleaning the kitchen. He knew they must be discussing the new piece of news. What he didn’t know was what it would mean to them.
So he thought about what it meant to him. Nothing, actually. It wasn’t like they could go to town and brag that they have the Gunsmith staying at their house. The nearest town was gone, and these girls did not strike him as the overly friendly type. So he didn’t see why he had to change his plans. A few more repairs, and then move on. By then certainly Eclipse would have had as much rest as he could stand.
“Well, that’s done,” Loretta said, as she and the other girls entered the living room.
“What’s next?” Clint asked.
“Well, it’s dark, so nothing outside. For me, I’ve got some sewing to do in my room,” she said. “After that I’ll probably turn in.” She looked at Belinda. “I’m finishing up that dress for you, so I’ll need you for a fittin’.”
“Well, I’ve got things to do, too,” Teresa said, “so I guess you’re on your own for a while.”
“I might just use the time to get some rest,” Clint said.
~*~
Clint remained seated in the living room for a while, listening to the footsteps above his head from the women on the second floor. Eventually, he stood up and walked to the front window to take a look out. He did not have the feeling of being watched that he’d had during the course of the day. If anyone had been watching them for that time, they had probably moved on—for now.
He decided to go out on the porch for a better look—actually, a better “feel”—of the situation. Standing on the porch accomplished two things. It gave him a better vantage point, and if anybody was watching him, they’d see that he wore his gun, even in the house.
He decided to sit for a while, appearing relaxed while his eyes continued to scan the horizon beneath the moonlight. He finally was certain that no one was watching at that moment. He could see a few likely vantage points, and maybe the next morning he’d take a ride out and see if anyone had left any sign behind.
Finally, he stood and went back inside the house, and up to the second floor to his room.
~*~
He was reading Dickens when there was a knock at the door. Force of habit made him take his gun to the door with him, even though he knew it had to be one of the girls in the hall.
He opened the door a crack, saw Teresa stand
ing there, holding a robe closed in front of her.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
He backed away to allow her to enter, then closed the door. Walking to the bedpost, he put his gun back in the holster.
“My, you really are careful, aren’t you?”
“I am,” he said. “That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”
She walked to the bed and picked up the book he was reading.
“’The Prince and the Pauper,’” she said. “I never heard of it.”
“It’s very good.”
She put the book back on the bed.
“I’m surprised that you read,” she said.
“Why?” he asked. “Now that you know who I am it surprises you?”
“No, no,” she said, “I didn’t mean—I’ve just never known a man who read.”
Again, he wondered how these women had found the husbands they’d had.
“Are Loretta and Belinda asleep?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said. “Their doors are closed.”
“You can’t sleep?”
“Not thinkin’ about you down the hall,” she said. “Were you thinkin’ about me?”
“I was thinking about a lot of things, while I was reading,” he said. “You and your sisters were among them.”
“Are you gonna leave now that we know who you are?”
“No,” he said, “I wasn’t thinking that. But I would like to know more about what happened to Corazon. Do you think Loretta would tell me, if I pressed her?”
“Maybe,” Teresa, said biting her lip.
“Do you know what happened?” Clint asked. “Has she told you what she knows?”
“Loretta keeps a lot to herself,” Teresa said—which really didn’t answer the question. “Our parents died at the same time, and she had to raise us. She takes a lot of responsibility on herself, and tries to keep it from us.”
“She sounds like a good sister.”
“She is,” Teresa said. “I think we’re all good sisters. We take care of each other.”
“Speaking of taking care of things,” he said, “didn’t you say you had something to do tonight?”
“Yes,” she sad, untying the robe, “I did.”
Twenty
She was naked underneath.